You Get Me
by thesoundofsunshine
Summary: ONESHOT. Lilly has to write a poem for English class. She gets inspired by remembering memories of her brunette best guy friend. Loliver.


**Again, with the music. I was listening to You Get Me by Michelle Branch, and got inspired. It's a Loliver, since they've been through so much, and I have been neglecting them. It's kind of a songfic, but not exactly. Just please give it a chance and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the characters. Not the song. Not the singer. Nothing.**

**LILLY'S POV**

I sat at my desk, trying to write out a poem for English class. Stupid teacher. Stupid teacher, who thought we needed to use poetry in life. I hated this entire idea. I couldn't rhyme, or think of anything good. I glanced down at the assignment paper.

"Think outside of the box. Use things that are close to you. Let you imagination shine," I mumbled the directions. Well, the parts that I needed for right now.

This entire assignment was hopeless. I've had it for a week, and each night I sit here and stare at the paper. I had no good idea, or ones that I couldn't make work. I sighed and looked back at the paper.

"Be creative. Have fun. Remember this is half of your final grade," I mumbled, staring at the paper. Miley had finished her easily. Stupid songwriting brain of hers. Something clicked inside of my head. I dug under my bed, for my old songbook. It helped take the edge off of my dad's leaving us.

I flipped through the pages, of several unfinished songs, and noticed several drawings and notes from Miley and Oliver. I had showed them this, and thought it was brilliant. One that Oliver had written, written in green pen, stuck out to me.

"Don't forget Lil, I'll always be there for you," I read, tracing over the indentations in the paper. His messy boy handwriting made me smile. I put the book on my bed and walked over to my desk. I picked up my pen, and words splattered the page.

**So I'm a little left of center  
****I'm a little out of tune  
****Some say I'm paranormal  
****So I just bend their spoon**

So far it looked pretty good. Someone knocked on my door, disrupting my train of thought. I groaned, and thought about the songs lying on my bed. I got up raced to my bed, and threw the songbook back under my bed and walked over to the door, but it was open before I got to it.

"Hey Lil," Oliver said as he walked into my room. He never really had a knack of privacy or anything.

"Hey Ollie. Why are you here?" I asked, as he sat on my bed. I discreetly slid my poem under my other papers that littered my desk.

"You don't want me here. What did I ever do to you?" Oliver said, feigning hurt. I giggled and walked over to him.

"You know I always want you here," I said, sitting on my bed, as I unconsciously picked up my pillow and played with the loose thread.

"I wanted know if you needed any help with the English project. You really seemed stressed about it," Oliver innocently said, giving me a lopsided smile. I couldn't help, but smile back.

"It's, actually, going pretty well. I got a few lines," I said, getting up. I picked up the loose notebook paper and looked at the words etched into it. I looked at Oliver, placed the paper on my desk, and let my pen fly over the paper again.

**Who wants to be ordinary?  
****In a crazy, mixed-up world  
****I don't care what they're sayin'  
****As long as I'm your girl**

I looked it over, and smiled to myself, as I felt a presence come up behind me. I looked to my left and saw Oliver reading over my shoulder. I felt at ease.

"That's really good Lil," Oliver said, smiling, so I could see almost all of his teeth. He didn't ask about the last line, but I was fine with that. What was I exactly supposed to tell him?

"Thanks," I said. Was I supposed to lie to his face, or tell him the truth?

"I'll sit here, and wait for inspiration to hit you again," Oliver said, obviously noticing how I just randomly threw the paper down and wrote lines. I sat at my desk, looking from Oliver to the picture sitting on my desk of us when were first met on the first day of kindergarten.

"_Hello, I'm Lilly," I said, sitting next to a nice looking brown haired boy. My mom had dropped me off here, and said that she'd be back around lunchtime._

"_Hi, I'm Ollie," The boy said. I smiled. Soon, the lady in front of the room told us to take out our crayons. I took out my tiny eight pack and noticed that Ollie had the six-four pack. That was one, two, three…a lot more crayons than I had._

"_Wow. That's so many crayons. Do you wanna share them?" I asked. Ollie looked from the crayons to me._

"_Sure, but you have to hold my hand," Ollie said._

"_Ew…you have cooties," I said, as the lady handed us a piece of pretty white paper._

"_Fine, then no crayons," Ollie said. I was mad. Couldn't he just be nice and share those. I held out my hand._

"_Can I use them now?" I asked, as Ollie's hand held mine. He nodded and moved the crayon box in between us. I noticed the lady take a picture of us, coloring our pictures, intertwined hands laid on the table._

**You are on my side  
****They just roll their eyes  
****But, you get me  
****When nobody understands  
****You come and take the chance**

I furiously scribbled on the paper. Inspiration was coming from the picture and Oliver. Not, that I would ever admit that to anyone besides my diary and Mr. Snuggles and Miley.

"Let me see Lilz," Oliver said, referring to my written work. I looked over my work and handed it to him. I saw his eyes following the words, smiling.

"What do you think?" I asked. I was braced for the worst, but from his smile I knew he liked it. Plus, even if it sucked, he would make the harsh reality sound cheery; he wouldn't hurt my feelings.

"It's looking good, Lil," Oliver said, handing the paper back. I searched his chocolate colored eyes, for any visible sign of joking or lieing. It seemed clear, but I could see the crinkles at the sides of his eyes becoming more defined.

"Thanks. So, let's talk about something besides English," I said, rolling my chair across the hardwood floor, so I was sitting across from the brunette best friend.

"Okay. So, Hannah has a concert this Friday. Mike's definitely going. Is Lola?" Oliver asked his smile still present. I cracked a tiny smile, for the sake of Oliver.

"Yea. Lola's always there for Hannah. Three musketeers till the end," I said, smiling even more. The three of us had become inseparable in the seventh grade, when Miley came from Tennessee. Oliver disliked her, but I instantly became fond of her. Him, being a loyal friend, became her friend as well. The rest is history.

I rolled myself over to my desk, gripped my pen, and let the words flow. Once, I stopped thinking about this project too much, the words just flowed out of me.

**You get me  
****You look inside my wild mind  
****Never knowing what you'll find  
****And still you want me all the time**

I smiled looking at all of the words forever written on this page of notebook paper. I rolled back to Oliver, paper in hand. He read it over, scrunched my eyebrows up, and looked at me. His eyes were searching my face.

"Got someone on your mind?" Oliver asked. I placed the paper on my nightstand, and rolled my eyes. Well, he was always on my mind, but I wasn't getting into any of that.

"Not exactly. Back to Hannah's concert," I said, getting off the topic. As well, as forcing the blush that was creeping up my neck away. It was a total nuisance, and usually gave me away. Miley knew about my dirty little secret, and was always bothering me about it. Oh boy, Miley.

Even though were are all best friends, Miley doesn't understand me the same way Oliver does. She is always questioning my sanity and she usually thinks I was dropped on my head. For some reason, I still am best friends with her, and I tell her everything. Plus, Oliver could write a biography on my life story. Miley could only tell you details, from embarrassing storied via my mom and / or Brie, and from seventh grade and on.

**So what if I see the sunshine,  
****In the pouring rain.  
****Some people think I'm crazy,  
****But you say it's okay.**

I wrote, as Oliver watched the words flow onto the paper. I was hunched over my nightstand, writing with my pink pen I kept in the drawer. Once I was done, Oliver took my pen and messily scrawled some words.

'You're not crazy Lil' was now impressed next to my poem. I rolled my eyes. Did he not understand? Was he oblivious? Could he not link one and one together? Anyone could look at this paper and realize it.

"That's what you always say," I said. I knew that people were calling me crazy. Miley accused me of it a couple of time, but that was a little over the top. It was during our arguments, and when were joking. I knew that other people, were saying it, and meant it too.

"Because you're not," Oliver said, looking into my cobalt eyes. My door creaked open, and Brie poked her head in my room.

"Oh, you're here with your boyfriend," Brie lightly said, smiling. It was then, I was aware of the closeness of our faces, and his hot breath on my face. We moved away, and his hand went straight to the back of his neck, below his hair line; obviously embarrassed by the entire thing.

"Okay, bye Brie," I said, pushing off my bed, rolling across the floor, and closed the door. She was a stupid, obnoxious older sister; who had her mind set on Ollie and I getting together. Little did she know, that's what I wanted in the first place. My imagination had me and him together.

I instantly rolled back to the nightstand, picked up the pink pen and let the words flow.

**You've seen my secret garden  
****Where all of my flowers grow  
****In my imagination,  
****Anything goes.**

I finished those words, dropped the pink pen back on my night stand, and rolled the chair back to my desk. I saw Oliver transfixed with his phone. I decided to wait for some more inspiration, by my fascinating subject. I walked over, and looked at his screen. Tetris.

I sat there, watching him play Tetris. He looked so at peace. The way his brown hair messily fell onto his ivory skin, and made his deep brown eyes seem alive. His nose, that was a little imperfect, just like him and me and everyone else on God's green Earth. Finally, my eyes reached his pink lips, looking, oh so, kissable.

"Lilly?" Oliver asked, suddenly I snapped back to reality. I saw the concern in his eyes, well, when I smiled at him, it was replaced with happiness.

"Hey Ollie," I said, rolling off my bed, feet hitting the floor. I padded over to my desk, and sat in the chair. I sighed, ran my fingers through my hair, and wrote down two lines.

**I am all you want  
****They just read me wrong**

I smiled, looking at my paper, eyes glancing up at Oliver's figure stretched out on my bed, playing Tetris. But, he too, was occasionally glancing up at me. We were both careful, not to let our eyes meet each other's glaze.

"Let me see your progression on this masterpiece," Oliver said, closing the phone and slipping it into his pocket. He got up, and walked across the floor, his Vans making more noise than my bare feet did. He looked at the paper, his eyes scanning the entire page a few times.

"Oliver, it's not that hard to read," I said, referring to his skimming of the page, and my fast written, sloppy hand writing. He smiled, and continued to look over the notebook page.

"I'm sure everyone will love it," Oliver said, looking at me. I glanced up at his tall, standing figure, and saw his brown eyes staring down at me.

"Thanks Ollie," I said, smiling, still looking up at him. I could see his eyes flicking from the page to my face, several times.

"So, who do you want?" Oliver said, casually, as he leaned to his right against my light yellow walls. I rolled my eyes, and felt my stomach sinking. I knew that I couldn't tell, but it might be best if I did. After all, he was just curious.

"Well, he's taller than me-" I started.

"Who isn't?" Oliver jokingly asked. I mocked my best offended face, which I couldn't keep up for too long. The second I saw his smiling face, I had to smile and let the teasing face go.

"Moving along. He's got a killer sense of humor, always knows how to make me laugh. Plus, he skates," I said, as I saw Oliver's face drop for a split second. He quickly put back on a smile. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.

**You get me  
****When nobody understands  
****You come and hold my hand  
****You get me**

I wrote on the paper, while Oliver continued to lean on the wall. I could feel his eyes burning a whole on my head. I looked up, into his brown pools and saw slight sadness.

"Oliver, what's wrong?" Oliver asked. He looked at me like I three heads, eyebrows scrunched up, and his jaw slightly ajar. I stood up, knowing he was still taller than me.

"Nothing," Oliver said, looking slightly frantic. His eyes flickered to the door. He was going to make a run for it. Whatever it was couldn't be worse than what my poem thing was about.

"I know you better than anyone else Oliver. You're lieing," I said, clear as day. I saw his eyes get wide, like I had just realized one of his biggest secrets. Or perhaps, he realized one of mine.

"I know you do. I know you just as well," Oliver said, his eyes flickering to my paper.

"Uh huh," I said, turning back to my desk, plopping in my chair and picked up my pen. Again, the words just seemed to flow, no thought involved.

**When none of the pieces fit  
****You make sense of it  
****You get me  
****And still I want you all the time  
****You really get me,  
****When nobody understands.**

"There, finished," I said, holding up my final masterpiece. I was so proud of it. Oliver took it into his grasp, and re-read everything I had written.

"Can I ask about a few questions about the guy featured in this?" Oliver asked. Was I supposed to say no and make everything more obvious than it already was?

"Go for it," I said, as the paper left Oliver's hand and floated to my desk. Oliver sat on my bed, and looked real serious. Well, as serious as he could get.

"Does this boy have brown hair?" Oliver asked. I nodded, fumbling with my friendship bracelet Miley and I had made for each other in eight grade; I hadn't taken it off since I had gotten it. Now, it gave me something to do, while I waited for Oliver's next question.

"That's all?" I questioned, noticing how Oliver was zoned. Perchance, contemplating the next question he could ask me. He slowly shook his head, as I watched his brown hair seem to float around his face.

"Is he in our homeroom?" Oliver asked. I slowly nodded my head, biting my lower lip. Oliver went back to his mind to think of the next question. I waited in anticipation.

Oliver was wringing his hands, and making contorted faces every now and then. He seemed very nervous. My stomach was doing flips. I had kept this secret as well covered as Miley kept her Hannah one. Oliver finally turned to me, his face making my stomach flip and flop all over the place.

"One last question," Oliver whispered. I got up, and sat next to him on my bed; his eyes following my every move.

"Ask away," I said, trying to get rid of my nerves. I needed to cool it. Oliver licked his lips and finally opened his mouth, but abruptly shut it. He sighed and continued.

"Is it me?" Oliver asked, his voice sounding very low, soft, and naive. My breath hitched, and my throat felt as if it was closing up. This was the moment of truth. I could lie. Or, I could tell the truth and put my heart on the line.

"Yea," I whispered back, in the same tone, the corners of my mouth tugging upwards. Here was the moment I was waiting for. Did he like me the same way, or as friends?

"Can I just…?" Oliver asked, drifting off, not finishing his question. Before, I knew it; his soft pink lips, were placed on mine.

**Okay, so I decided I needed to end this somewhere. Reviews make me very happy!**


End file.
